Chapter 17
Travel safety tip: Learn the customs and blend in. With your telephoto lens attached to the camera slung around your neck, and your guidebook and maps spread out around you, you’ll be spotted a mile away. Learn about the culture before you travel and walk around the city with confidence, not arrogance.
~ Adventurous Amanda, February 2014
She was still giddy as she walked into Crash and Byrne later that night. They’d clinched. They were playoff bound. Well, she hadn’t done anything, but it still felt like a team win. Moral support and all that. And Ben on the ice at the end, sweeping his hand through his hair before he spoke to the crowd.
Swoon.
She swore he did that just for her. She chuckled. Or he just wanted his sweaty hair out of his face like any normal person would.
He’d addressed the fans like he didn’t hate giving speeches and having all eyes on him. He told her time and again that being the center of attention when he was on the ice was fine, but speeches, he tended to avoid those like the plague. He’d come a long way from his quick soundbites.
“They won. I can’t believe they won. I mean, I can believe it. They totally deserve it. Oh, this is so exciting. I’ve heard that the playoffs are crazy,” Penny shot out in rapid fire, and Amanda feared her friend would run out of air.
Lexi laughed. “Yes. It’s wonderful. You know what else is wonderful? You taking a breath between sentences.”
Penny glared at them when Amanda nodded.
“I’m excited. It’s amazing, and they were totally going to make it, but you can’t rely on stats with this game. I mean, stats to see who might win. Stats about everything else in the game are great.” She paused. “Sorry, I’ll slow down.”
Amanda chuckled. “No. It’s pretty sweet, but take it down a notch, or ten.”
“I can’t wait to get my hands on Ethan. And my mouth. I wonder how long we have to stay,” Penny said, a gleam in her eyes that Amanda was pretty sure was echoed in her own gaze as the exact same thoughts ran through her head.
“Hey, you have to hang out for at least two drinks. We have a babysitter,” Lexi said, her arm snaking around Grant’s waist when he joined them.
“A babysitter? Why isn’t she with Rose?” Amanda asked, referring to Grant’s mother, who adored Lexi’s daughter Abby.
“I don’t want to take advantage of Rose. She might get annoyed and stop delivering tiramisu to my door,” Lexi said, horror on her face, and Grant barked out a laugh.
“Nice to know your priorities,” Grant said.
“Oh hush, yours are the same,” Lexi fired back and Grant shrugged.
“Fine. Two drinks,” Amanda said, knowing that Ben would only have one drink. Although, since tonight’s win was a huge deal, they might not be able to escape as quickly as she’d like.
“Shall we get drinks while we wait? Oh, and that cookie bomb thing,” Lexi said, tugging Grant toward the bar. That woman had a one-track mind. Good thing Grant was the same way.
***
A short while later, the bar was starting to fill up and players were trickling in, but still no Ben or Ethan. She was getting restless. The quicker they showed up, the quicker Amanda could drag him back to his place. Her mother was still staying with her, and no matter how many times the woman offered to make Ben pancakes in the morning, Amanda refused to take Ben back to her place.
She was going to have to figure something out sooner rather than later since Kurt didn’t seem to have the promise that her mother had initially thought, if her date with some guy named Greg the other night had meant anything.
Now was not the time to think about her mother. She shook her head and took another sip of her beer as people started to cheer in the bar. She spun to watch Ben and Ethan walk through the door. Penny set her empty glass on the bar top and weaved through the crowd to Ethan, and then jumped. Ethan easily caught her and planted a huge kiss on her.
“Get a room,” someone yelled as Ethan flipped his teammates the bird and walked Penny into a corner.
Amanda’s eyes focused on Ben as he searched the bar. She lifted her hand in a wave, and he stalked toward her.
Stalked was definitely the right word.
She propped her arm against the bar before he swept her feet right out from under her in a crushing hug, his lips brushing her forehead, and she took in a shuddering breath.
He swallowed her gasp of surprise and proceeded to kiss the hell out of her. She vaguely heard shouts of encouragement and a few catcalls and whistles. He was staking his claim on her tonight, and she would gladly give herself over. He’d never planted one on her like this in front of his friends and teammates.
A shiver rolled through her as he squeezed his arms tightly around her waist, his head slanting, nudging her to return the kiss with equal fervor, and she twined her fingers in his hair and met him desire for desire.
He finally broke the kiss and set her back on her feet. She swayed a little, her back hitting the bar, and glared at him as he grinned. Well, as much as she could glare through her passion filled stupor.
Holy hell, the man could kiss.
“How fast can you finish your one drink?” she asked, her voice rough with need. And he laughed again, the sound harsh to her ears. He wasn’t as calm as he appeared.
“As much as I want to shotgun a beer and then drag you out of here, I can’t leave too early. It’s not a normal win,” he said, his arm still snug around her, his head dipped low so only she could hear.
“I know that. And I’m so freaking happy for you, but whenever you’re ready to take this celebration somewhere private, you won’t have to ask me twice,” she whispered into his ear before she nipped his lobe. His drawn in breath rolled through her, and she couldn’t wait to get him alone.
“Stop teasing me,” he muttered, pressing a hard kiss to her lips that set off a few more whistles.
“You started it. Being all hot, and winning tonight, and now we can’t leave until we mingle.” She pretended to pout, but it quickly turned into a gasp when his hand slipped to her ass and he gave her a squeeze. Since she was up against the bar, hopefully no one saw the grab.
“Now who’s the tease,” she said.
“You are. As always.” His lips were still close to hers, his breath washing over her.
“They’re frighteningly adorable, aren’t they?” Lexi asked, pulling Amanda out of her Ben haze.
“Yes. So cute,” Penny teased, finally reemerging from where she and Ethan had disappeared for the last five minutes. Or maybe it’d been ten. She’d lost track.
“Oh, shut up,” Amanda grumbled, and then caught Ben’s smirk.
Yes. She loved Ben the tease. It was so nice to see him regularly these days.
“So how about that drink,” Ben said. “And if you’re good, maybe we can slip out sooner rather than later.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Pretty sure I’ve delivered on most of them by now,” he said. He broke her gaze and scanned the crowd. “First round’s on me, boys,” he called out to his teammates. “Thanks for getting us to the playoffs.”
The guys all cheered, and Adam and his staff got to work behind the bar filling all the drink orders.
Amanda stepped away from Ben as his teammates crowded in, so he could bask in their win. He always thanked the team for their effort, but he had to see that his leadership played a huge role. In the months since she’d really gotten to know him, she watched rookies look up to him, and veterans consult him on plays. He’d joked that Baz was the glue, but Ben was a pretty secure adhesive all on his own.
She smiled, sipping her beer, and taking everything in.
“You’re good for him. He’s learning to relax, and you make him smile,” Ethan said, low enough that only she could hear him.
“Umm. Thanks.”
“And he didn’t even freak out about the pictures.”
“Wait. What pictures?” Her gaze darted between Ethan and Ben.
“You didn’t tell her, Cheesy?”
“What?” Ben asked, breaking away from his conversation with Sully to turn his attention on them.
“The pictures in the Bunny Hop.”
“The what?” Penny asked. “What the hell is the Bunny Hop? Is that like a strip club for hockey groupies and players?”
Amanda coughed, having taken a sip of her beer. “What?”
“No, it’s not a strip club. Seriously?” he asked, shaking his head. “Apparently there’s an online group for puck bunnies, and they talk about us.”
“What do they say and how did you find out about it?” Penny asked, her curiosity, as always, piqued.
“Don’t worry. I’m not trolling for bunnies online, or in person, or anywhere,” Ethan said.
“Baz is a secret member. Well, he created a fake online persona,” Ben said.
“What? That’s just so wrong. But can we get back to these pictures? They’re of us?” Amanda asked.
“Yes, just some of us around town. Out on dates. A few of us kissing,” he said. And he was so calm. So un-Ben-like. How was he okay with this?
“Seriously? They have nothing better to do?” she asked.
“Comes with the territory of dating an athlete,” Penny said, and Amanda remembered Penny freaking out about this very same thing when she and Ethan had started dating. Not that Amanda cared about the pictures. She was still trying to figure out why Ben didn’t.
A month ago, he was determined to keep his entire life private. He’d avoided the media when he could, including her. And now…
She looked down at their linked fingers and then up to meet his dark gaze. With his other hand, he brushed his thumb across her cheek.
“Don’t think about it and don’t look it up. The comments were mean, some of them spiteful and brutal. And absurd. They don’t matter. All that matters is you and me.”
In that moment she lost her heart to him, and she wasn’t interested in getting it back.
Ben was always nervous when his father came to see him play. They only made it to Minnesota once a year during the season, so he always had a ticket ready for his dad on game day. Ben made it home during the summer briefly, but he hadn’t called Minnesota his home since he’d moved to San Francisco shortly after the Strikers had drafted him. He’d tried for years to convince his dad to move to California, but the old man always refused.
Too many memories echoed through the walls of Ben’s childhood home, some heartbreaking, but most of them so warm that he wished he could wrap himself in them again. He could never live in that house again, but his father wouldn’t leave. She was still there. As Ben got older, and with everything that had happened with Tara, he couldn’t fathom a love like that. How gut-wrenching it could be when pure happiness was ripped from you without warning.
He choked back the pain and worked on taping his stick. Had he wrapped it once or twice? Shit. He yanked the tape off and started again. Once. Twice. Three times. He smoothed his hands over the tape before propping it against the wall and doing the same process to his next two sticks. He taped three every game, but his focus was off tonight, and it had nothing to do with the text he’d received from Amanda. In his jersey. And nothing else. At least he assumed nothing else since she’d conveniently forgotten to wear pants. The jersey had covered everything he wanted to see because she was so freaking short.
Fuck.
He could get used to pictures like that.
He shook his head and finished his stick prep, lining the sticks along the wall, before heading back into the locker room. They’d be on the ice in less than fifteen minutes for warm-ups, so he needed to get everything ready.
He bumped up the volume on his earbuds, letting the chords from his favorite Zeppelin album rattle through his skull. He was both pumped and nervous for tonight. His dad had texted that he’d be there for warm-ups.
He always wanted to play well, to win for his team, but when his dad was in the crowd, he tried even harder. After his mom died, and his father became a shell, the only time Ben caught a glimpse of his formerly strong and affectionate father was when Ben was on the ice, especially when Ben was winning. That glimmer. That grin Ben remembered as a child. He’d wished that version of his dad would’ve made a permanent reemergence in the last fifteen years.
It was one of the reasons he never stayed in his hometown for very long. It hurt too damn much.
The music in one ear cut out as one of his earbuds was pulled out.
“Cheesy, you in there?” Harty asked, dropping the cord.
Ben glared. “What?”
“On the ice in five.” Harty dropped his voice down, “And Bugsy would love it if you’d pay attention when he’s talking.” Harty nodded toward the center of the room where their coach was staring at him. Eyes narrowed. Bugsy knew how Ben felt playing in his hometown, and he read Bugsy’s expression loud and clear—get your shit together.
Ben dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“Now that we’re all here, you guys need to focus. Minnesota is on their game. Ten-game winning streak that I would love to end, but their goalie is a wall. We’ve been over the tape. He’s sometimes weak on his blocker side. It’s rare, but it happens, so find your lane and take those shots.”
A chorus of agreement echoed around the room and they headed out to the ice, Ben and Harty the last guys down the tunnel.
“Back in your hometown. Let’s beat their asses,” Harty said with a grin.
Ben chuckled, and glided onto the ice. The surface under his feet felt like home and he glanced up to the third row, one section over from the corner. His dad’s favorite spot.
His dad raised his hand, a smile on his face, and Ben was ready to win. He’d give his father nothing less.
***
“Great game, Ben,” his father said four hours later after they placed their order at a pub near the team’s hotel. They’d beaten Minnesota three to two. It’d been close until the last five minutes, especially since they were down one of their top D. Finn had blocked another shot to the same ankle he’d taken a shot to a few weeks ago. Last time he’d been lucky. Tonight, they were pretty sure he’d broken it.
Hopefully they’d get some good news in the morning, but Ben was positive that they’d be calling up another defenseman from their AHL team in Portland. Not what he wanted to have happen as they headed into the post season. At least they’d pulled out a win. And with the team flying out tomorrow morning, he had time to grab dinner with his dad. Thank God the kitchen stayed open late, because they were just settling in after eleven, and he was starving.
“Thanks. Final game of the season, and with Calgary’s loss, we’re in second place and have home ice advantage for the first round,” he said, sipping the ginger ale the waiter had just returned with.
“I’m so proud of you, son,” his dad said, the warmth in his eyes making Ben feel like a kid getting his first goal again.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d like. “Who are you going to root for if the final ends with us and Minnesota?” he asked, trying to lighten the conversation.
His dad laughed. It sounded harsh, like he didn’t do it enough. And Ben knew he hadn’t.
“Strikers, of course. I’d wear your jersey proudly if you ended up back here for the final,” his father said.
“Glad to see your loyalties are in the right place.”
“I have a feeling Minnesota is getting bounced in the first round. They barely got the wild card spot to begin with. Not the best season. New coach and it took a while,” his dad said.
“You never know what will happen in the post season. I’ve watched more teams surprise everyone by taking the Cup,” Ben said, hoping that this year was the Strikers’ turn to hoist all thirty-five glorious pounds.
“Think you’ll make it out for a playoff game?” he asked.
“We’ll see.”
That was a no.
Ben could count on his right hand the number of times his father had come out to visit him in California in the nine years he’d been there. The man liked his home. And the routines he had in his home.
The apple hadn’t fallen far from that tree, but Ben was learning to embrace some things he couldn’t control. Amanda was a shining beacon at the top of that list. He’d wished she’d been at the game tonight. He wanted to see her jumping up and down in the stands. She’d texted him after the game, congratulating him. Telling him she had a perfect victory gift for him when he got home.
And then she’d sent him another picture. She was looking over her shoulder—her bare shoulder—and pouting. She had a Strikers hat on and nothing else. The picture stopped before it got to her ass, but her petite curves were on full display, the angle revealing the side of her breast. She made his mouth water more than anything on the restaurant’s menu.
Amanda: Had to throw my jersey at the TV since you didn’t get me a hat trick. With a winking emoticon.
He’d almost dropped his phone when that message had come through. Thank God he’d just arrived at the pub so none of his teammates—or his dad—were around to see his jaw hit the floor.
He’d quickly shot back a reply.
Ben: I’ll never get another hat trick again. Having dinner with my dad, and as much as I LOVE the pic, I hope I can concentrate at dinner.
Amanda: Sorrynotsorry. Another winking face. Have fun at dinner and I’ll see you tomorrow night.
He’d chuckled, thought mundane thoughts about anything but her, adjusted his tightening pants, and headed into the restaurant. She was going to kill him.
“What’s with the smile?” his dad asked.
“What?” Ben rolled back his shoulders. Now wasn’t the time to think about that picture. She was in so much trouble when he got home.
Shit. That thought didn’t help either.
“When are you going to tell me about your girlfriend?” his father asked, and Ben was back to gaping like a fish.
“What? How do you know about her?”
“A few pictures online. She keeps popping up. You haven’t had a steady woman with you in public since Tara.” Tara’s name came out harsh. His father had been livid when he’d found out about the girl he’d thought would be a part of their family. About what she’d tried to do to Ben.
“Amanda’s different. She’s…well, she’s amazing.” His voice was wistful.
“I know.” His father gave him a soft smile.
“How do you know?”
“I get that look in my eyes when I think about your mother. From the first day we met, it was like that,” his father stopped and chuckled. They rarely talked about her. “That’s probably a lie. She didn’t like me at first. Said I teased her too much. Torment was the word she used. Couldn’t help it. I was drawn to her.” He shook his head, lost in the memory.
“Sounds like Amanda, except she pursued me,” Ben said.
“Glad you smartened up and let her catch you,”
“Maybe you’ll have to come to California and meet her.”
“Maybe I will. Now, tell me all about her. I hope she’s keeping you on your toes.”
“You have no idea.”
Ben’s chest tightened. For once he was sitting across from his father. The father he remembered, who he’d feared he’d lost forever fifteen years ago.
It was Amanda who’d brought him back. He’d wanted what his parents had for his entire life. Had it been in front of him, in the form of a pixie terror, for the last three months?
He wished he was flying home tonight.